


please (don't) take my sunshine away

by MiniInfinity



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Break Up, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniInfinity/pseuds/MiniInfinity
Summary: The morning after Soonyoung and Seokmin break up, Soonyoung is taken back to the 1950s as a radio host, riling up listeners late at night for his quick words about love. Through his short time there, he learns what he could have done.(hidden string of words among the other words)





	please (don't) take my sunshine away

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: there is a mention of homophobia in the middle. it's very short but still  
> another warning: i barely planned this out and didn't take much time on it because i wanted it out, so i apologize if the writing style is gross and it burns your eyes D:

"You were serious?" barely leaves from Soonyoung's lips as he watches Sekomin grab his backpack and start throwing his sweatpants, cologne, Soonyoung's shirt in. Everything--angry lines across Seokmin's forehead, silence that burned for hours till now, Soonyoung not even reaching out to stop him--it's all _wrong_. A sharp inhale stabs the silence and he can't tell if it's from him or Seokmin, if it's his weak attempt to stop the tears from confessing how much he wants Seokmin to stay better than his own words, but he knows he shouldn't ask Seokmin to stay with him.

"Are you even listening to me anymore?" Seokmin's voice rises over the honks of car horns down below, teases of rain at the junction of winter and spring dampening their apartment darker than it should be at this hour. It falls near the end, the "anymore" struggling out and it makes Soonyoung think that it must have been much longer since Seokmin believed he stopped listening to him. But Soonyoung has been listening to Seokmin since the start; how Soonyoung seems to push him away, the dance room at the university being Soonyoung's bed more than their own shared home, the way Soonyoung dismissed Seokmin when he called and said he cooked dinner, the nights where Seokmin cooks one too many dishes for himself alone.

"My-" Soonyoung starts. _My ears took in all the word you said_ , he finishes to himself. Down to the syllable, broken sentences when Seokmin started to cry, unfinished thoughts trailing to the void when Seokmin thinks he stopped giving him any attention or care. The words are shoved so far down his throat, grips at his heart for trying to beat against the odds of Seokmin never coming back. But he still wants another chance to give Seokmin back the love and warmth Soonyoung could never picture being without, could never show to Seokmin when he traps himself in the dance studio and burns his lungs for one more run-through. Soonyoung wishes he can reach into his chest, pull his heart out, and turn back to when doubts about staying together built better walls against certainties of falling apart.

Sunshine seethes right through the blinds, a moment of watching the apartment being torn down to one lonesome figure, when Seokmin trails a soft click of the door. Soonyoung expects him to slam it shut, just like all the other couples he watched fall apart on television screens, in trailers of upcoming movies, sometimes right in front of him at some friend's home. But Seokmin isn't like that. Despite the reality Seokmin begs Soonyoung to see, that they won't work out if this goes on, Seokmin's hands are forever gentle. Soonyoung curls into the sheets at the couch, a drop or two smothering the pillow, before he chokes out a sob, because no matter how much he can bash Seokmin's heart and soul, Seokmin will never make the pain heard.

\----

"My mornings always start out with a cup of coffee. Very simple, an absolute must-have. And after that, a good morning kiss to my wife and-" Soonyoung stops following after that. If anything, couples and love, laced with happy endings and new beginnings, are the last things he wants to be forced to listen to at the moment, and perhaps for a long while.

Only at the blurred, sharp rings of the alarm does Soonyoung shift his body a centimeter. He looks to the right, wonders when he switched his alarm from his phone to a bulky clock. It's white, almost like Mickey Mouse screeching at him away, with the small hammer whacking at the two bells. He grabs the clock, vibrations digging the dials into his palm, before smashing it against the wood under him. He brushes the crushed metal, dented bells, and glass shards off into the trash bin before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Sunshine pours through like nothing is stopping it. Seoul clouds on a forecasted clear day can't beat the sunlight bleeding right over his skin when he fully wakes up, skims his eyes to the skyscrapers bidding him a good morning with posters and banners in a language his tongue rarely plays with. He turns where his desk should be, where his sports bag usually slumps against one of the legs.

_You CAN make a waistcoat out of an old mattress,_  under his eyes, beneath  _The Daily Mirror_  newspaper, and it hits Soonyoung with one question. _Why is everything in English?_

"Make the best of your morning-" stirs from somewhere close by, a bit fuzzy around the syllables from a man. He looks around, spots a small black box sitting there. He squints, runs his fingers over the white dial and golden numbers, a third of the plastic caving in for a checkered design. He traces the chipped golden words at the top with his thumb, muttering the name to ring some familiarity in his brain.

"Me orola?" he mumbles, soon followed by a corrected and clear "Motorola" from the distance. He cranes his head up when papers are shoved under his elbows and it takes a second for him to realize that he is at a desk, the desk creaks at every movement he tries to get up, Seoul is not painted across the glass.

"Happy to be back at work?" a balding man huffs, voice rough at every letter and cigarette fumes die at his pressed shirt more than at hollowed ash trays. Soonyoung wrinkles his nose at the bitter smell, but it's gone when the man says that listeners are expecting another great bit from Soonyoung, "Continue with the romance, okay, kid? Everyone loves those and you're the only one who can do it right."

When Soonyoung is about to ask what's wrong, why is everyone speaking English, the man thrusts another stack of papers in his hands, splitting skin with paper cuts. He reads the segments, topics, time slots. There are names he doesn't know, some he can't even imagine to pronounce, but his name is printed only once and it's the only slot with empty lines. He looks up to the man, to ask what kind of words to tell, but his back gets smaller and smaller the longer he stares out the door. So he writes about the only romance he can think of, the one written into the back of his palms by works of time and tears.

 

 

"Skies sometimes reflect your mood," he sighs into the microphone, blanking out on the script he wrote in front of him, approximately three hours ago. He's not sure about time after smashing his only clock, after being pushed to move for staring at typewriters and radios sparking off at the loss of the right beat. "He realized that the moment his eyes landed on the person on a sunny day. It could have been any other day but as the sunny season went away, it was hard not to think of the person without sunshine like spring days, warmth even under branch shades.

"Are there days where the sky doesn't match your mood? Absolutely. But he felt that any day with the person is a sunny day. It felt like that for years, even holding their hand made him warm in the inside. After years of holding hands, everyone says being in love is just like the first time, but no. It doesn't feel like the first time. To him, it's the feeling of familiarity after holding their hand for the thousandth time, the comfort of their presence. And once it's gone, it's easy to figure out what he's missing."

\----

Gray settles a home in the skies, moves in furnitures of dark clouds, and waters skyscrapers every few hours or so. Soonyoung parts the curtains of his office, witnesses a bird hopping at the bare edges of the building. He doesn't know what time it is and he's too red-faced embarrassed to request his boss for a new clock. The same man, Soonyoung now proffers him the generous role of boss in his mind, slaps another short stack of papers with his name typed only once and nothing after.

"You'll be going on early this time, Soonyoung," he pats Soonyoung on the back, as if it'll brush off the fact that Soonyoung has less time to muster out anything, even less time now that he has to run back from the office at the end of his side to fetch the time. "The one for science fiction is sick and hasn't been able to write anything. Her husband got sick, too, so she won't be coming any time soon."

 

 

"Never take anyone for granted. Always listen to them. Because a heart can be broken into two halves and those halves can either make a whole or a hole. He didn't realize this when he was still with them. One half of the relationship tried making things whole for the two of them, but they were the only one trying. Instead, they dug a hole for the two of them.

"Know that there are always days that are not sunny, not bright or warm like how you want it to be every single day. By the time it was nearing summer, the couple fought against each other more than the weather did against the couple. And sometimes, he's found crying outside while trying to block the sunlight, and they never came outside."

\----

" _D_ _ear Soonyoung, I've been listening to your series for years and since the start, you say your stories are based off of fiction or of your close friends' experiences. From time to time, I want to ask you, is this story actually based off of your own love story? These words of sadness from your lips can only happen if they are actually felt._ "

How long as Soonyoung really been doing this? He has never stopped to ask himself that and it never hits him until now. From the dates on timecards, newspapers, and rolling digits in the recording room, Soonyoung deducts decades from where he should be. 1951 is an awfully scary time for him because his parents aren't even roaming the Earth yet.

Much of Soonyoung's anxiety now feeds off of telling the truth. Does he really want to expose his own failure of loving? Knowing how things are still moving forward in the twenty-first century, he can't bear to think of what might happen if he slips out that the person making all of these efforts at the other end of the relationship is a man, just like him.

"I promise you that these are not based off of my own love life," Soonyoung chuckles, more to himself than to the letter. "Best friends can tell you a lot of things, right?" Soonyoung swallows hard, wonders how much of the lie people pick up through radio waves.

\----

Love spilling from his lips is foreign. He doesn't deserve to be talking about love when he did not give it to Seokmin when he had the chance. He shouldn't even be considered the one to talk about love when he was the one who left Seokmin hanging, alone out the apartment.

 

 

"You have to cherish them. Some people don't understand that. You're not trying to discover the meaning of the universe but if you call someone your universe, then you should at least _try_  to make them mean something to you." Soonyoung tilts his head away from the microphone, breathes deeply a couple of times. When his heartbeat finally settles, he continues on, "It'd be a heartless relationship not to."

So Soonyoung resolves himself that if Seokmin will give him a second chance, that is what he will do. But a thousand lifetimes can pass with Soonyoung begging on his bleeding knees for Seokmin, and he still doesn't deserve him.

"Please, when they walk out with more tears than the rain pouring outside, let them in. When something comes up that you and your significant other can't agree on, talk about it. It doesn't hurt to listen to the rain, but it hurts even more when the rain hints at a storm and neither of you want to do anything about it."

_Don't be like me_  is a threat against the microphone, into the room where everyone seems to be watching Soonyoung with dimming eyes, across the country that is far from home, and it still won't make it to Seokmin.

"Take a break, Soonyoung," buzzes from the other side of the glass. All tension evaporates at these four words and he brings his face to his hands, a sob or two wracking his body and he doesn't care if the microphone catches it and the entire world in this time can hear him because he can't go forward in time to promise to give Seokmin the universe. It _still_  won't be enough, Soonyoung will never be enough. The universe stretches onto infinity, but sunlight doesn't.

"My heart hurts for the people in your story," one woman whimpers out as she dabs her eyes with a tissue. A hand rests over Soonyoung's back and tries to even out the trembles of his shoulders, unsteadiness all over, when he slurs out about his heart hurting too much.

\----

Sunshine burns into his eyelids and he smells the whiff of coffee, listens to the rhythmic tune of Wonwoo's alarm at exactly seven in the morning. It's Seoul drawn out his window in millimeter-precision: rectangles of skyscrapers following the same route upwards as his apartment complex, lines of cars inching behind the top floors of some buildings, banners and screens taped onto the side of a few. But things don't match up when he remembers he last shared a place with Wonwoo two years ago, before he even met Seokmin.

Away from his home with Seokmin doesn't prepare him for the calendar, marked almost three years from when he last heard of Seokmin. He steps closer to the dates and numbers, knits his eyebrows at his first day of college, the first time his eyes flit up to stare at Seokmin from the other side of the classroom.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you found the hidden/secret message in the fic somewhere and i hope kinda solidified what happens after the fic :D if you figured it out, i'd like to mention that it's my first time writing a fic like this and if my writing sounds off than usual, it's a big reason why. all these "words of wisdom" probably made you cringe i'd like to apologize for that too sdlskdjf  
> this fic was originally going to be soonwoo but after (not) much thought, i switched it to soonseok bc im soonseok trash and it's been a while since i've written soonseok. this fic was inspired by the old radios i saw at the airport lmao  
> anyway, thank you for reading and i hope you're all doing great!!  
> i'll be at [tumblr,](http://seokmins-thighs.tumblr.com/) [twitter,](https://twitter.com/leescokmin) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/miniinfinity) c:


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